Untitled
oil swirling
dancing and in hand
with dirty water
ripple down the street
a screeching tire
splashing and skids
on the empty, black road
disturbing dance
the engine pumped faster, the gray sky smiled in turn
the tire hopped a curb, then flew from the ground
the tire clashed with the earth
mud splattered the clean paint
the car rushes to gain an inch
the engine refuses to lose
leaves rustle past the windows
branches claw the sides
the shades of greens and browns
swirl into an intensity of nothingness
the rain beats on the hood
the car slams into a tree
the tree groans and pushes back
the engine dies
the man inside is silenced
a red stream flows from his forehead
dripping down to form a pool at his feet
the trees lean closer to stare
(written Nov 28, 2005)
Michael Lankford
Mon 4th May 2015 12:19
Thanks for your comments Colin!
I really just couldn't come up with a title and so felt there was no point in forcing one.
The last stanza is definitely me telling, not showing, and so it could be better; I agree.